Imagine citrus sunlight skipping over gleeful waves. Shoulders unhitch from old burdens. Bits of stories dance like dandelion seeds caught in the mischievous breeze.
Once outside the boundaries of touch, the vibration becomes a direct line with a red hue, sculpted by imagination alone. Invisible tugs inviting a clumsy, but jubilant reach.
Catchwords of lost conversations shine through the bleachers of cosmic wonder: a phantom limb tickling intergalactic radio waves and making them hum.